Chapter 259 - 257: Off Target.

Chapter 259: Chapter 257: Off Target.

​"...How did you..." Head swimming, Drogger eventually manages to croak out some semblance of a sentence, but Ynoro heads him off before he can finish.

​" Noog ," he chides, and Drogger sighs as he sends him a meaningful look from across the table.

Because even without saying it aloud, he somehow has a point.

At the end of the day, and regardless of how much of an imbecile he can act like at times, he’s still Drogger’s oldest and closest friend. Best friend, even.

If anyone was going to notice, it was always going to be him.

​"... So ," Ynoro prefaces, since his enduring silence is as good as a confession, and Drogger braces himself.

But his old friend knows him well enough to be gentle, and keeps his tone pleasant and painstakingly even, "How long has it been going on for?"

​"...Not long," Drogger admits hoarsely, and Ynoro hums, like the pieces are all fitting together.

Which cannot be a good sign.

​"I figured," he replies with a small shrug, "...You’ve seemed different." That’s not exactly what Drogger was hoping to hear, because he’s been trying his utmost not to act different, and his face must convey his dismay because Ynoro quickly elaborates, "

Happier , Noog. You’ve seemed happier .

He does make you happy, doesn’t he?"

​This, Drogger can answer without hesitation.

​"He does."

​"Good." Ynoro seems satisfied with his answer, and gives him a soft look, "That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, Noog."

​Drogger feels a surge of affection for his friend.

​"...Thanks, Ynoro," he tells him quietly, and then ventures with a small wince, "...The others haven’t noticed, have they?""

​"They haven’t," Ynoro replies simply, "... Yet ."

​Yet .

​It’s strange how a single word can hold such weight.

It hangs over them as their tea grows cold, and any relief that Drogger had felt at finally having someone to share in his secret instantly evaporates.

Because he’s right.

In a castle this size, there’s no way that Ynoro will be the only person to notice.

He’s just the first .

It’s only a matter of time before his business spreads across the castle, which while a mortifying concept for someone like Drogger who likes keeping his private life exactly that, at least then they could stop this sneaking around.

​There’s just the small matter of his father.

​That he won’t approve is a given.

And while Drogger doesn’t believe that he’d do anything as drastic as Rogard seems to think, the Lord Spidra holds a lot of sway amongst the nobles.

When he speaks, they listen, and whatever he whispers, they whisper with him whether they believe it or not, until eventually they do.

It’s uncanny, and underhanded, the way he likes to twist and turn the inhabitants of the castle against each other on a whim.

​Drogger’s experienced that first hand, and while his skin’s grown thick enough over the years that their looks no longer bother him, he won’t have them do the same to Rogard; won’t have him treated the way they’ve always treated him.

​But at the end of the day, the Lord Spidra does not decide everything within these walls.

Him and the nobles who so fawn on and fear him never approved of someone such as Drogger rising to the rank of Captain, but he’s still here, isn’t he? Because that was a decision made by someone they hold in even higher regard; someone whose approval matters more.

...

Seven arrows, Xena manages this time. And six of them hit the target.

Again, not in the exact spots she was hoping for, but she’s definitely getting the hang of it.

The one that missed was pretty close, and she’s sure it wouldn’t have if Montrel hadn’t broken her concentration by commenting on how the silver pin in her hair today kind of looked like the one on her glove.

​It had obviously been intentional on her part but she hadn’t really expected him to notice. Men never seemed to notice things like that.

​And yet Montrel had.

​It makes her feel a little giddy. And it must show a little too much because out of the corner of her eye she sees her handmaidens exchange exasperated looks.

She immediately straightens her skirts, and resettles her composure as Montrel comes up beside her, a bow of his own in hand.

It’s enormous compared to the one she’s been using, and he honestly looks rather dashing carrying it.

​"Mind if I take a shot before I head off?" he inquires, already having apologised for having to leave early to tend to his horse.

She can’t say she’s not disappointed, but she admires his dedication.

​"Please, go ahead."

​He steps up, bow in hand, and in one smooth, swift motion, nocks and draws.

Xena knows well now how much strength it takes to draw even her little bow, and so finds herself with goosebumps at how easily he pulls back the bowstring to full draw.

His expression turns serious as he holds; gauging his shot, and she lets out a soft gasp as the arrow snaps loose, hurtling towards the target.

​It lands just off centre. Montrel clucks his teeth, snorting in disapproval, but his expression softens as Xena claps in delight.

​"It uh, wasn’t that good," he points out with that crooked smile of his, but she doesn’t even care.

​There goes that look between her handmaidens again. Xena’s decided not to pay them any mind.

He takes four more shots in quick succession and lets her pick where on the target they should land.

These all cluster exactly where she’d told him, and he comes away looking quite pleased.

It’s not just enough to be able to hit the centre of the target, he’s told her before, because anyone can fluke a bullseye every now and then; it’s about making the arrows stick where you want them to stick.

​It had made her laugh when he said it like that. He never minces words around her, and she likes that about him.